


Honey, don’t feed it – it will come back

by jokolibroccoli



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Based on True Events, Cat Dads, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles and Raven are siblings, Charles really needs to get laid, Cherik - Freeform, Erik Has Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sassy Raven, Secret Messages, Smitten Charles Xavier, Smug Erik Lehnsherr, Strangers to Lovers, They lowkey have a mutation kink, flirting via text, idiots to lovers, there’s cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:34:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jokolibroccoli/pseuds/jokolibroccoli
Summary: Over his summer break, Charles Xavier befriends the ginger cat that keeps visiting him in his backyard. The more time she spends by his side the less the young professor is convinced that she belongs with anyone... however, he is wrong.[Based on the ridiculously true story of how I got a cat.]
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a more personal note at the end of the story, but for now just a few infos for you before reading :^)
> 
> \- This was meant to be a one shot but as always I just can’t stfu so I dragged this out onto multiple chapters, but the chapter lengths are messy because like I said, originally it was meant to be just one chapter.  
> \- This story includes a sex scene. If you don’t feel comfortable reading it I would suggest you skip in chapter 6 from “I would like to continue where we left off – if you still want that.” to approximately 2.5 pages later “they spent some time laying next to each other on the living room floor.”  
> \- Tho I have lived in the US in the past and have a lot of American family I grew up in Germany and German is my first language so if my English is off at times (especially punctuation) I am terribly sorry  
> \- Fluffy stuff like this is typically not really my genre but I was really inspired to write this by real life events so yea I did my best haha  
> \- This is my first time publishing on AO3 and my first time publishing at all in a long time so this is kind of really exciting

“Meow.”  
Charles opened his eyes.  
She was back. Of course she was – she had been there every single day of the past month, waiting for him to get out of bed in the morning.  
He sighed and rubbed his eyes before standing up and making his way to the kitchen.  
His telepathy worked in weird ways with animals. Since they didn’t exactly form coherent thoughts in a way a human would possibly understand he could only sense the cat in some abstract, confusing way. The “meow” for example – possibly uttered audibly in front of the patio door – made its way right into his sleeping mind, waking him.  
He briefly thought about how he wouldn’t need to set an alarm anymore since the cat was never late for their morning ritual and chuckled to himself as he opened the glass door to let the small animal step inside. 

At first he had been strictly against feeding her – he wanted to make sure she would leave and go home in the evening –her owners would be worried if she didn’t and he couldn’t possibly imagine that this – for cat standards –fairly well mannered lady didn’t have an actual home.  
However, his discipline regarding strict rules for cats in his backyard turned out to be just as strong as his discipline with his students and soon cans of cat food were stacked on top of his fridge as if it was the most normal purchase for him to make.

“Good Morning, Miss, how are we doing today?” A long, pitiful “meow” was the answer. “Hungry, I take it.” Charles shook his head slightly as he picked up the little bowl he had chosen for his visitor to eat from. Immediately, the cat's face lit up and she purred, rubbing herself along the striped fabric of Charles’ Pyjama pants. A smile played along the young professor’s lips as he felt the cat by his feet while he prepared her meal.  
Something about the presence of the animal just seemed to be very good for his mood. He had always loved cats but had never quite gotten around to adopting one; his job at the university wasn’t exactly one that gave him a lot of free time – it was only due to the fact that he was on summer break that he spent so much time at home – and he was convinced that if one took on the responsibility of caring for a pet one had to do so wholeheartedly and with time at hand. He simply didn’t want it to be all by itself all day and as long as he lived alone that would be the case – sure, Raven dropped by from time to time, but it wouldn’t exactly be the same. 

When the ginger cat had begun showing up every day he had decided to just enjoy his little visitor’s presence as long as it lasted and make her feel welcome. “Is today going to be the day you reveal your true name to me, Nacho?” He said while placing the bowl in its usual place. Hasty chewing was the reply. So probably not. “Nacho” had been what he had called her since their first encounter – he had gone to the bathroom before dinner and upon his return had found the animal on the table, her head submerged into a bowl of cheese nachos. Additionally, in his opinion the color of her fur slightly resembled that of dorito dust – so the name was quite fitting.

He turned on the boiler to make his morning tea and prepared his own breakfast. His mind kept wandering back to the mystery cat and where it might come from. He could tell by the way she behaved that she had definitely once lived with people; she recognized the fridge, the noise of kitchen utensils, and even the makeshift litter box he had made for her the night it was raining so badly he couldn’t bring himself to send her away for the night. But on the other hand she was totally starved when he first began feeding her – he had never seen a cat this hungry – so she definitely hadn’t been fed in a while. So where did she come from? What was he supposed to do with her? He really didn’t know… 

Raven kept telling him to take her to the vet. And so she told him again, later the same day, when she came over for dinner. “Why should I take her to the vet? She looks perfectly fine.”, “you know why, Charles,” Raven said, raising her eyebrows at him over her glass of wine.  
“She’s not chipped.” He said, leaning back in his chair to make space for Nacho to sit in his lap.  
“So she’s not?” Raven replied with a scoff: “how do you know?”,  
“I can’t feel anything. I checked.”  
“Those things are tiny. You can’t just ‘feel’ them. You need to scan them – the vet can do that.” 

Charles fell silent. He didn’t say anything, just absently massaged the cat’s cheek by rubbing the pad of his thumb across the fur below her ear. “Why don’t you just take her there? Even if she turns out not to be chipped, at least you know for sure then.”,  
“I can’t go there with her … I don’t have a cat carrier…” Charles mumbled and avoided Raven’s quizzical gaze by staring intently at the little creature in his lap.  
Now it was Raven’s turn to fall silent for a while. She knew she wouldn’t convince her brother of anything as long as he was in this state. When he was like that he looked just as he did when they were children. A pouty, know it all little boy – too introverted to speak his mind but too stubborn to do what he was told to do. And Raven was sure she understood why her brother was so strictly against having the cat checked for a chip: “May it be, Charles, that perhaps you don’t want to find out if she is chipped?”

The tips of Charles’ ears went red and he let out a choked little giggle: “Now why would I not want that?” For some reason he seemed to be fascinated by the leftover crumbs on his plate, for he picked up his fork and began stabbing at them.  
“I don’t know because maybe – if she turned out to be chipped – you would have to take her home to her rightful owners, and you don’t have it in you to do that. You’re too fond of the little darling.”  
Charles raised his eyebrows at her “that’s not true – if she had a home I would do my utmost to have her back there!” Raven didn’t need to be a telepath to see that that was a blatant lie. She chuckled and shook her head. “Whatever you say…”

“You could also try and find her owner via your telepathy.” Raven continued after another moment of silence.  
“No, I can’t,” Charles replied, visibly outraged by the suggestion: “it would require me to go past the surface thoughts of the people in this neighborhood. It would require for me to violate their privacy in a rude and inappropriate way. I have sworn to myself to never use my mutation recklessly and I intend to keep my word.”  
Raven sighed. She didn’t want to start another debate about Charles being too hard on himself regarding his mutation. They already had enough to discuss and she didn’t intend to vex him any further tonight.

“All I’m saying is” She watched Charles sneak a piece of ham from the platter in the middle of the table and (very inconspicuously) let it fall towards the cat. “If you keep spoiling her like that she won’t ever leave you alone.” The blush spread from her brother’s ears to his face and he gave her a little frown “As your presence at this table sufficiently demonstrates.” He replied. Raven giggled at that. Charles couldn’t help but join. “To our new sister, then.” She said, raising her glass. Charles raised his in return “I suppose so.” Their glasses met with a clinking sound and they drank. When their eyes met again Raven tried one last time: “But please do take her to the vet.”, “Will do.”


	2. Chapter 2

He did not. In fact, he kept Nacho’s and his daily routine going for another week with nothing really happening. He enjoyed his time off, finally reading some books he had had on his list for what felt like forever, lazing on the patio with Nacho constantly by his side apart from the nights when he still felt compelled to leave her outside and some hours during the he afternoon when she disappeared in the bushes to roam the neighborhood as cats do. It wasn’t until a few days later that something changed.

He was just done laying the table – Raven and his co-worker and close friend Moira were going to come over for dinner provided that they were the ones bringing the food since with his cooking skills, or rather the lack thereof, he barely managed to keep himself and (newly) a cat alive.  
He was startled by Nacho rushing in through the patio door, followed by an unusual metallic dangling sound. 

Charles raised an eyebrow and looked at the cat that – visibly upset – used her paw to try and get what was behind the sound off of her: she was struggling with a wine red collar around her neck.  
He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but Charles’ heart sank at that sight – she was wearing a collar… definite proof that she belonged somewhere. 

He kneeled down with a sigh to get a closer look and reached out to hold Nacho in place – she really wanted to get rid of the thing around her neck. “There, there dear now let me see what this is.”  
The collar had a locket on it, beautifully woven from thin lines of metal… something one would think way too precious to be dangling from the neck of a roaming cat. When Charles took it between his fingers – the cat writhing in his arms in an attempt to break free – he noticed that he could unscrew part of it and managed to do so soon after.  
Inside the locket he found a piece of paper, carefully rolled into a tiny scroll.  
That was … odd. 

Absentmindedly he placed the cat on the floor and walked over to sit down at the table, carefully unrolling the paper. “W A N D A” it said in the front. The letters were written in black ink and oddly straight and accurate. “Wanda?” Charles read aloud. The cat to his feet stared at him. “So you do have a name after all? Or is that where you belong?” Wanda? He flipped the paper and saw that it was also written on in the back. “Lehnsherr.” The same handwriting, a little sloppier though. A phone number beneath it. And, lastly, “please contact me.”

Once again, Charles sighed. He didn’t feel like calling that number at all. As much as he was interested in finding out where Nacho – Wanda – came from … he still didn’t feel like letting her go. What if she had a good reason to leave there? She had been very hungry before he had started feeding her… what if her people were bad? 

He was so deep in thought about what kind of person might be behind the odd name on the note – he had saved the number in his contacts before realizing it. He would call them later… maybe after dinner… for now he would put the note back where he found it – he should probably let the Lehnsherr person know that he had received the message he thought, so he got out a pen and added a little “thanks” to the note. 

“Thanks,” he thought bitterly as he reinstalled the note in the locket. Thanks for what? He meant to say “thank you for letting me know where this cat belongs” because it was what his rational brain was telling him was appropriate. But he couldn’t help but not feel thankful at all. 

***

“Lehnsherr…” Raven frowned. “I don’t know… to me it sounds kind of …”, “suspicious.”, “European.” Charles and Moira had finished her sentence at the exact same time.  
Over dinner, the professor had briefed his guests on the events of the earlier evening, Wanda sitting by their side looking weirdly offended – as if she didn’t like having her secret exposed like that. 

“Suspicious?” Raven giggled. “Brother dear, you can’t antagonize them just because you want to keep their cat.”, “All I’m saying is that she wouldn’t have just run away like that. Why would she? She’s an absolute sweetheart.”  
“There’s plenty of reasons.” Moira interjected: “it could be a baby in the household, or another cat in the neighbourhood or just plain boredom.”

“Exactly.” Raven added: “you should definitely call them like they asked you to. Maybe everything will turn out just fine. Either way it’s your duty to do so. And who knows, maybe you two get along well and can obsess over the cat together or something … if it’s an old lady which – judging by the posh looking locket around that animal’s neck – doesn’t appear all too unlikely, you can come over for tea and be old farts together – or something.” 

“Thank you for that. Besides, the handwriting didn’t look too much like an old lady,” Charles frowned: “and I’m not looking to make a friend here.”  
“Maybe you should be. The only people visiting you are your sister and your co-worker. Maybe this whole thing is to get you out of your bubble for once.”  
“Okay are we still talking about the cat situation or is this turning into you two trying to get me to go out with you again? Because I feel like it’s turning into a lecture about the latter.”

Moira grinned: “Doesn’t make us less right tho”, she winked at him: “We haven’t done anything fun in ages. All you do these days is work. Listen to your sister for once, Chucko.”  
“Hell will freeze before that day comes.” Raven replied while helping herself to another glass of wine. 

Charles didn’t like this conversation. As little as he enjoyed talking about the Lehnsherr person and their claim on the cat – the girls trying to peer pressure him into going out more was worse. He was a grown man and – okay admittedly, maybe he did barely leave the house anymore but did it bother him? He was fine on his own. 

“Long story short, no matter your motives or lack thereof, you should call that number or at least shoot them a text.” Raven concluded, supported by a heavy nod from Moira.  
“I will contact them, of course I will. But what if they’re genuinely bad people, or what if they’re plain creepy, or if it’s some kind of –“  
“Oh my god –“ Moira looked genuinely terrified and absolutely delighted at once: “What if they’re hot?”

Charles thought about this statement of Moira’s when he was in bed later that night. He thought back to the neat and strong handwriting on the paper inside the little locket.  
It did have a rather masculine touch to it … something that contrasted his own squiggly writing rather nicely he thought.  
He further thought that maybe the girls were right and that perhaps this was an opportunity for him to meet someone new.  
His next thought was declaring himself officially pathetic for romanticizing a complete stranger by their handwriting. 

He came to the frustrating conclusion that Raven and Moira had been correct all along. That he was indeed miserably lonely and needed to get out of the house more often. Maybe people who actually met other people, went on dates, had drinks in bars, communicated with people besides their sister and coworkers didn’t overthink a far fetched statement by said coworker.

He sighed and flipped his pillow to the cooler side. This summer heat really affected his thought processes in the weirdest of ways. He would call the number in the morning – would find out that some old lady, or some middle aged family father, or some crazy cat lady was behind it, and hope that they would continue to let Wanda visit him and the whole thing would be over with. But first he needed some sleep. That was all.


	3. Chapter 3

“Meow.”  
Charles opened his eyes. He was relieved to see that the cat didn’t mind having her secret exposed to an extent where she didn’t come back. He could sense from her last night that she did feel indeed upset about the collar and being unmasked – or at least that’s what he read in the weird feeling his telepathy got from her. But apparently she still wanted to visit him – or breakfast – or both. So, as every day of the past weeks, he got up and waddled into the kitchen to open the door. 

Wanda strut past him and let out a long meow – a demand for breakfast – the wine red collar around her neck the only thing that was different from any other morning. Charles couldn’t help but giggle at that “Now, young lady, what kind of behavior is that huh?” He shook his head as he bent down to pick up the bowl. Seeing the cat up close like that made him freeze in his movement. Instead of grabbing the bowl he reached out to take a closer look at the locket. 

It looked… changed. Nonsense, it had to be a different one than last night. But … why? How many fancy metal lockets does one Lehnsherr person have for their cat? But he could tell it was a different one from the way he could now look through in between two metallic strands to see that there was still a note inside. A new one? For inexplicable reasons, Charles’ heart skipped a beat and he quickly unscrewed the locket to get out the little paper. 

To his disappointment he came to the realization that it was – in fact – the same note. What had he expected after all? He shook his head at himself and was about to put it back into the locket when his eyes fell to the bottom of the paper, right underneath his own response. There was new text. The same tidy, strong lettering as the last time. “What for?” It said, with a little arrow pointing at Charles’ written “thanks”. 

“Yea, exactly …” Charles mumbled and got a pen from the drawer next to him. “For letting me meet this wonderful young lady,” he wrote and put the note back before preparing breakfast – first for Wanda, then for himself.

He was rather busy that day, sorting papers, preparing his planner, getting ready for the new term to start in a few days, and forgetting all about his plan to call the number he had added to his contacts last night. Some time around noon Wanda appeared to grow tired of sitting on the window shelf in Charles' office and made her way back outside.  
The professor didn’t think much of it. He was certain she would return in time for dinner; she always did and truth be told once he was working again the amount of quality time spent together would decrease drastically anyway – so they better got used to it. 

Charles was proved to be correct when right as he took his pizza out of the oven a familiar little mewl was to be heard behind him.  
“Good evening, dear!” He gave Wanda a wink and placed his pizza on the table. “Meoo-oow” was the reply. She was hungry. “So you can leave me to work by myself all day but still demand dinner, is that so?”  
Nacho simply looked at him, tilted her head slightly and jumped right onto the kitchen table – curiously sniffing at the pizza in front of her.

“Nononono”, Charles caught the little punk in his hands and lifted her from the table – his cardigan wouldn’t be the first piece of clothing of his entirely covered in cat fur. “No, sweetie, if you want dinner you’ll have to behave yourself, do you understand?”  
The Professor was sure that the look she gave him was the cat equivalent of a smirk – the little creature knew too well that he would feed her anyway.  
He sighed and let his eyes wander. For some reason they kept lingering on the little locket; something told him to take out the note inside one more time.

“Alright darling, you will get dinner in just a second. Let me just…” he had gotten an expert at unscrewing the little container throughout the past 24 hours and in just a second he held the piece of paper in his hand once more.  
He placed it next to the pizza and got up to fill Wanda’s bowl. Once she was munching her dinner – a steady purr constantly filling the kitchen – Charles sat back down to have his own dinner, carefully unfolding the paper with one hand while holding a slice of pizza in the other. 

Once again – he didn’t know what he had expected – but when he found that another note had been added underneath his own message his face lit up only as long as it took him to read the words. “That was her doing, not mine.” Oh well okay then, Mister – or Miss? Or Mx? – it was Mister, for sure, wasn’t it? – Lehnsherr, he was just trying to be polite here. 

Once again, he got out his pen. He prepared to write something equally snappy – this was meant in a snappy way, right? It was the only option – when suddenly what Raven and Moira had said last night crossed his mind. Maybe he was being a little over sensitive here. After all – this person had no idea who he even was, what would Charles himself have written if he was in their place? The professor found himself realizing that he was just exhausted and hungry from his busy day and that he shouldn’t make this interaction more tense than it had to be.  
So he settled for something less provocative.

His eyes wandered across the paper. Whatever he wanted to say, he better kept it short: there was only so much space on the small square and most of it was already taken up by the phone number, the last name, and their previous messages. “It’s getting a little cramped on here.” He simply commented. Why did he even write that? It was in no relation to anything that had previously been written, this was pointless, he could just as well just not write anything at all… their conversation was over. There was so little space on the paper and he wasted it for an absolutely unnecessary statement. 

He was shaking his head at his own lack of originality as he folded the paper one more time – it was getting more and more worn out by the repeated folding and unfolding and the grease from his pizza wasn’t helping it – but what did it matter? Why did he keep worrying about all this anyway? Why did the Lehnsherr person want him to contact them in the first place? This was pointless. 

Still – he replaced the note and couldn’t help but wonder what his four legged little mail carrier would have in store for him in the morning. He hated to admit it but the little messaging game started to grow on him. It was entirely contradictory to what he had thought at dinner, he was well aware of that, but for some reason when he was in bed and ready to sleep that night he couldn’t help but feel a tiny rush of excitement in his veins – how outstandingly odd.


	4. Chapter 4

When he let Wanda step inside the kitchen the next morning, his hands had already removed the note from the locket before the thought had even crossed his mind. Today’s response was written in red ink instead of the usual black, but Charles could tell from the still impressively orderly letters that it was written by the same person.  
“well then…” was all it said but Charles knew exactly what it meant by the way the phone number had been circled in red and an exclamation point had been put next to it. 

Charles could feel his heartbeat increase. They actually wanted him to call. They didn’t just put it there, they didn’t forget about it, they wanted to speak to him about this situation.  
He sighed. He was curious who was behind all of this, sure, but at the same time he enjoyed this little game of anonymous scribblings on a tiny piece of paper too much to give it up for something as businesslike as a phone call. He was afraid that once he heard who would pick up the phone all his fun in this would evaporate and he would have to face the reality that after all this was merely the owner of the cat that kept visiting him. 

He had by now positively convinced himself that the Lehnsherr person was a man – he didn’t know why exactly, maybe it was wishful thinking – but he was sure it was in the way the letters were pointed and strong, in the cold responses, in … in … his big imagination and absolute lack of a dating life, that was where that assumption lay. He couldn’t help but feel like part of his aversion to calling the number was the risk of having to face the disappointment of the person turning out to be a woman.

Once again it became painfully clear to him that Raven was absolutely and one hundred percent correct whenever she called him a hopeless romantic. How on earth had he managed to develop an emotional attachment to this silly game of theirs that had simply contained this –very brief and not at all personal – conversation?  
He was a pathetic mess indeed. Maybe he should reinstall one of the dating apps onto his phone, they had been a great source of entertainment in the past… 

A reproachful whine from Wanda pulled him back to reality. She was sitting in front of him, staring up at him with those emerald eyes of hers.  
Of course! He hadn’t fed her yet. “Terribly sorry, love. I don’t know where my mind is these days.” He sighed as he picked up her bowl.

After breakfast, his head was still fully occupied by the thought of having to call the number and he secretly cursed himself for having done most of his work preparations the previous day. Now he couldn’t even pretend to himself that he was too busy to call. 

He managed to procrastinate it until the early afternoon by finishing the book he had just started reading and trying to actually cook a meal from scratch for once – the first with considerably more success than the latter. When it was approaching 3pm and he actually found himself considering to iron all of his dress shirts – most of them absolutely free of wrinkles and hanging in his closet – he decided to stop this madness and just get it over with.

“You see, Wanda.” He said to the cat that was curled up on the living room couch. “You see what you are putting me through?” He placed a gentle hand on her back causing her to purr loudly. “You’re damn lucky you are irresistibly adorable and have soft fur.” Wanda opened one eye to gaze at him intently. She looked as if she knew exactly what was going on – and she was judging him for it.

“You’re right.“ reluctantly he got out his phone and looked up the number in his contacts. His finger hovered above the “call” button for a second “whatever.” He mumbled. What could possibly happen?

The seconds of waiting while the number dialed seemed to drag on forever. Charles – his heart figuratively in his mouth – tried to calm himself by closing his eyes. He was about to just hang up – there wasn’t anyone going to pick up obviously, he had been waiting for ages, when suddenly…

“Lehnsherr?” A male voice. No doubt.  
“Oh —ah, good afternoon — uhm, my name is… is Charles Xavier, I believe you’re the guy with the cat?” Outstanding eloquence, really.

The voice one the other end chuckled and Charles hated that he liked the sound of it.  
“I didn’t know Wanda swam across the Atlantic Ocean every morning”, “Oh – I“ the comment on his british accent caught Charles absolutely off guard.  
He wasn’t used to people not knowing of his descent anymore … okay perhaps he didn’t talk to new people enough. 

“I don't live in England anymore.” Really? Wow Charles, very informative.  
Another chuckle on the other side  
“I also didn’t know British people weren’t familiar with the concept of sarcasm,” Deep voice, rather rough, sharp consonants. A shiver ran down Charles’ spine. If this man’s looks had half of what his voice had – Charles was a goner for sure.

“Your voice resembles your handwriting.” Charles burst out. Why did he say that?  
“Should I be offended by that?” The man on the other side of the line sounded amused – at least one person was enjoying this shit show. “No – no, you have a beautiful handwriting.” The words had left Charles’ mouth before he had processed their subtext.

“Is that so?” The professor had always taken a smug grin for something one could see, not hear.  
“A–anyway. I’m calling because of the cat.”  
“I suspected that.”  
Charles made a mental note to return his three PhDs at the next convenient moment – his brain capacity barely seemed to exceed that of a kindergartener at this point.

It took them another few minutes of Charles helplessly stammering and Erik – that was his name – audibly enjoying the other man’s misery just a tad too much until they finally got to an actual conversation. Charles had always hated phone calls, ever since his mutation had manifested. Telepathy had become a normal sense to him and talking to someone on the phone without being able to sense their emotions or surface thoughts was like trying to guess the taste of something while having a stuffy nose. 

However, eventually he got more comfortable with the situation, coming out of his shell a little when they got to their actual topic of conversation. 

He learned that Erik lived in a street that was familiar to Charles and merely about a block away, was of German descent, and had brought his two cats – Peter and Wanda – with him when he had moved to the US six years prior. About a year ago, however, Peter had unfortunately been hit by a car when roaming around and hadn’t survived the accident. Devastated – and concerned for Wanda who had never been without a companion in her life – Erik had adopted a Kitten a few weeks later, hoping it would help Wanda feel better.

At first it had worked out marvelously. The kitten – Lorna – had learned how to hunt for mice from Wanda, they were getting along quite well, everything was getting calm and peaceful again, until all of the sudden, things changed. When Lorna had grown up to be near Wanda’s size, the older cat had refused to stay in the same room as her, had disappeared for longer and longer episodes of time, only dropping by for food, until eventually she didn’t return at all.

“When she came home two days ago it was the first time in three weeks and I must admit I had more or less given up on seeing her again so I decided to give the collar another try. She hates the thing – I know – and she’s gotten rid of all previous ones – but what was I supposed to do?”  
“I absolutely understand that.” Charles was glad he had regained his ability to form full sentences: “I don’t know if it helps to know that your street is just a block away.”  
“I know.” What? When Charles didn’t reply it was the first time Erik’s confidence appeared to be staggering.  
“I – the locket on her collar. I can … track it.”  
“You mean like a chip?”  
“Yea … well … not exactly.” Erik appeared to take the lack of reply as a demand for explanation. Charles was deeply confused by the change of tone – had he done anything wrong?

“The locket is made from an alloy that’s barely found in household utensils or at least not around here so as long as she doesn’t wander too far I can … feel its atoms.”  
Charles gasped.  
“I’m a –“, “Metallokinetic.”, “How did you …”, the German sounded absolutely baffled until – once again – his mood slipped into something darker: “listen, if you have a problem with mutants, if you’re some kind of mutantphobic asshole, then this conversation ends right now and I will pull my cat out of your house by her collar if I must.”

Now it was Charles' turn to be absolutely dumbfounded. “Me?”  
He couldn’t help but let out a scoff at the absurd accusation. He was so used to interacting with the academic community at NYU that someone not knowing that he was perhaps the top expert on genetic mutation in the country – if not the world – and if nothing else, exactly because of his personal experience as a mutant, was something so absolutely unusual that he needed a moment to gather his words:  
“a mutantphobe? Listen, my friend, you got me all wrong, I am a mutant myself – and an expert on the topic, I might add.”

“You are?” Erik was back to sounding absolutely delighted: “Then I apologize for the accusation. I had no idea.”, “it’s alright, I understand you’re being cautious.”, “it’s just – I haven’t met many mutants since I moved here – I haven’t met many mutants, period. And I –“  
“You are not alone, Erik.”  
“I… I’m sorry, something’s come up. I will have to hang up now.”

Erik’s weird changes of tone were definitely something that took some getting used to… but Charles' heart sank at the other man’s words. As much as he had dreaded to initiate this phone call, the thought of it ending filled Charles with a weird sense of emptiness – were they ever going to talk to each other again?  
“I’m glad that Wanda is in good hands when she’s not at home.” Erik’s voice had softened a little: “just … would you text me every now and then to let me see that she’s alright?”  
“Uh… of course, yes I can –“  
“Good. Thank you very much. Talk to you later.”

Silence.  
Charles couldn’t help but feel like he did something wrong. But he didn’t, did he now? He lowered the hand holding the phone and let out a deep, miserable groan that made Wanda get up and cheerfully nudge her head at his side.  
All this time he had wanted to just get this over with, and now?  
They had gotten along well, hadn’t they? They had laughed a lot. Charles checked his watch. He hadn’t even realized that they had been talking for nearly two hours. 

What was he supposed to make of this? And why did the thought of the man’s low chuckle send a shiver down his spine?  
No, no, he would not do that. He would not let this get to his head. He was just a lonely fool, and Erik could just as well be some hideous, old creep, who just happened to have a nice voice. He had never even seen the man! Hell, they had only talked to each other because it was necessary. He could be straight for all that he knew! They happened to be emotionally attached to the same cat. Nothing more.


	5. Chapter 5

Erik was just some crazy idea, Charles knew that. Like daydreaming about the pizza delivery guy or romanticizing the way that one specific waiter at the local diner looked at him – both things he had indulged in in the past. There was no way anything would ever actually happen between them. And Charles had no way of even knowing if Erik would be his type; all he knew was his handwriting and his voice.

That voice.  
That low voice with a hint of an accent – a little rough but still somehow warm, it’s effect lingering like the smell of coffee or the taste of a really good glass of wine.

He buried his head in his hands. “Do you ever listen to yourself?” He thought. How far gone could one be after as much as two hours on the phone? He entirely blamed this on Moira and Raven for planting this … this obsession in his mind with their ideas about … getting to know people or – or Erik being hot.  
Yes. That was it. Had Moira not thrown that word around like that the thought would have never occurred to him.  
Period.  
He was sure once they spoke again – or if Charles saw a picture of the man – all magical attraction would fade in an instant. He would really need to call Moira out on putting him in this position.

Besides… how long had it been that he had gotten laid? The girls were right, he hadn’t gone out in ages and his last relationship had ended years ago. Of course his first conversation with a man who at least sounded his age and had an attractive voice would have him fantasize… and Erik’s voice was indeed… attractive.

The best Charles could do was to just text Erik as he had asked him to and soon all inappropriate thoughts would be gone for good. Yes, that’s what he would do.  
He got up from where he had been sitting at his desk and strolled over to the living room, Wanda fast asleep in the soft cushions.

He kneeled down and took a picture of her – one that he thought was absolutely adorable – and sent it to the contact named “Lehnsherr”. He should really change that some time, he wouldn’t want Erik to call him “Xavier”, either.

“Wanda really likes my couch.”

He sent. Before he could even put his phone down, there was a response.

“Looks cozy.”

“You could come over and test it sometime”

Dear god, did he ever think about anything before rambling on? He couldn’t just invite random strangers to test his couch – in whatever way – “Shut up, Charles, just shut your mouth for once in your life” he thought to himself. He was certain Erik wasn’t even that –

His phone buzzed.  
It was a picture.  
“Wanda’s rival.” it said beneath it.

He opened the picture. It was a cat – a tabby – but Charles barely took notice of her.  
He was too distracted by … the rest of the picture. By the lap she was sitting in, to be exact. By the white V-neck that stretched across broad shoulders and well defined pectoral muscles in a way that left just enough to imagination. By an impossibly narrow waist. By the slim, long fingered hand resting on the animal’s back.

No, Charles couldn’t say he blamed Lorna for claiming her spot to sit in that lap.

That’s not fair, Charles thought, that’s simply not fair.

“What a beauty.”

He replied, hoping Erik saw it as a comment on the cat.

“She’s well aware.”

“A diva?”

“Spoiled rotten.”

Oh I could imagine worse things than to be spoiled by you, Charles thought and immediately cursed himself for the thought.

“Wanda is a sweetheart. All she requires is two meals and the occasional cuddle.”

“She’s always been that way. Peter was way more of a piece of work.”

Charles was glad that they were back to talking about cats – there was less potential for him to say something inappropriate until his weird crush wore off.

Only it didn’t.  
It really, really didn’t.  
Charles hadn’t expected his random cat picture to turn into a never ending conversation but apparently that’s where they were at now.  
Three days passed and – save for when they were both sleeping – neither of them ever had to wait longer than maybe an hour and a half for a reply. They began to discuss all sorts of things, got to know each other more and more, and cat-talk – though a constant theme in their conversations – took up less and less of their messages.

“What are you doing?”

It was 1pm on the fourth day after the phone call. Apparently Erik had decided that they didn’t even have to pretend to initiate contact via cat related content anymore.  
Charles was sitting on the patio, Wanda in his lap, absently playing with the locket around her neck while working on his lesson plan for the coming semester.

“Just preparing something for work.”

“Is Wanda with you?”

“I thought you could sense her locket”

“I can”

Charles’ eyes wandered from the screen of his laptop to the cat in his lap, the little metal container on her collar gently between his thumb and index finger.  
Why would Erik ask then? The locket was right here. He could sense every atom of it, every part of it right underneath Charles’ fingerti – Oh.  
Charles gasped.

“I’m sorry, did my fidgeting bother you.”

“Sort of.”

“But don’t worry about it. It was just a little ‘distracting’”

“That might be the right word.”

“Are you alright?”

“Me? Sure. Why do you ask?  
So you’re preparing something for work? What do you do for a living anyway?”

A little puzzled by the sudden change in topic, Charles closed his laptop and put it aside – he was unable to focus anyway.

“I’m a professor at NYU.  
Genetics.  
Thought I told you before.”

“A professor? You have a young voice.”

“I am young!”

”Well… I’m not a teenager“

”But for a man holding three PhDs and the head of a faculty I suppose I am indeed kind of young.”

“How old are you, if I may ask?”

“...26…”

“And you?”

The moment of truth.

“30.”

Charles released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. 30… what a fine age. Not to say that that meant anything. It was … just a nice age to have… he assumed.

“Are you some kind of genius or something?”

“I suppose I do have certain mental abilities that others lack, I’d say.”

“Does it have to do with your mutation?”

“I suppose some of it. But I would never actively use my gift to get ahead of others.  
Hardly seems fair.”

“Doesn’t it? Why would you actively hold back on your natural gift just to fit into this human-normative society? Would you ask an academically gifted student to play dumb so the average ones don’t feel disadvantaged?”

Oh dear, this conversation had taken an unexpected turn and Charles didn’t know if he liked where it was going… at least he could be certain wouldn’t say anything dumb or sexually charged as long as they were discussing mutant-human relationships.

“I wouldn’t, but an academically gifted student wouldn’t pose a threat to anyone just by being academically gifted.”

“So you agree with the mutantphobic government that all mutants are dangerous killing machines that should be locked away?”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

“Then what exactly did you say?”

Charles hadn’t realized before that Erik had such an infuriating side to him. He rolled his eyes and looked at Wanda in his lap. “Is this why you left?” The cat yawned and turned to face the other way. She wouldn’t let her naptime be disrupted by such minor things as two mutants disagreeing. Clever girl.

“All I’m saying is that certain abilities hold dangerous potential. And those with those abilities have the responsibility to restrain themselves in order to live respectfully among others.”

“And your mutation making you exceptionally smart is disrespectful towards stupid people?”

“Intelligence is not my mutation.”

“Then what exactly is your mutation?”

Charles took a deep, shaky breath. He hated having to tell others about his telepathy. It tended to frighten people – humans and mutants alike – because despite all conflict between the two groups there was one thing they could agree on: nobody liked the thought of not being alone in their head. And the feeling of losing Erik’s trust was not something Charles was keen on experiencing.  
Whatever.  
He barely knew the man. Life would go on.

“I’m a telepath.”

Like ripping off a bandaid. Over the years Charles had worked hard on learning to be proud of his gift. No matter what his stepfather and -brother had told him, no matter what terrible rumors his classmates at Oxford had spread about him based on it, no matter the distrust lingering in the air, giving him the feeling of suffocating, like walking through some kind of toxic gas.  
And typically, he mastered the charade.  
Still, the wait for Erik’s reply was pure torture.

“What class?”

That was a new one. He hadn’t had that reaction yet.

“... omega.”

“YOU ARE AN OMEGA CLASS TELEPATH?!!”

“... yes :)”

He regretted adding the smiley face the moment he hit send. That was it. Whatever it was that the two of them had built up throughout the past days – Erik would distance himself. They always did. Charles wanted to cry.

“So let me get this straight.”

”You are 26 years old.  
You have 3 PhDs.  
You’re the head of the genetics faculty at the University of New York.  
And you also happen to be the world’s most powerful (recorded) telepath.”

”And you spent the first ten minutes on the phone with me stammering like some teenager at their first job interview?”

Charles felt the blood rush into his face. This conversation was full of unexpected twists and turns. This is why he preferred face to face conversation – he would be able to sense a change in tone rather than being struck by it like that.

“I suppose so…?”

“What are your vices, Professor? What is it that makes you so modest?”

“Modest? Dear friend, if Raven heard you say this she would declare you insane.”

For some reason, Erik mockingly addressing him by his title had a strange effect on Charles. He barely dared to breathe.

“Raven? Your girlfriend?”

“God, no”

“That bad?”

“She’s my sister.”

“Explains why she can’t see you’re being criminally overmodest.”

“And…”

They appeared to have hit “send” at the exact same time.

“And?”

Screw it, all or nothing. He was in too deep to pull back now. If Erik turned out to be a homophobe the heartbreak would come one way or the other.

“I’m not exactly a ladies’ guy.”

“Good.”

Good? GOOD?! What on earth was he supposed to do with that?!

“Good?”

“That explains why you wouldn’t have a girlfriend.”

“There’s plenty of reasons why I’m single … trust me.”

“That’s what I meant when I said you were overly modest.” 

“Which brings us back to my original question.”

”What are your vices? What makes you doubt yourself like that? Is it your looks? That’s the one thing that comes to my mind that I didn’t get a glimpse of yet.”

Charles didn’t know if he was supposed to be offended by the assumption that he was ugly or flattered by the assumption that the rest of him was impressive enough for Erik to fail to understand his insecurities.

“But I guess you could change that.”

“What?”

“I'd like to know what you look like.”

“If you don’t mind.”

Charles sighed. He hated taking pictures of himself … but Erik wanted to see his face, that was a good thing, wasn’t it?  
Stop – why was it a good thing? What even was going on? Where was this conversation going?

“You could google me.”

Charles really didn’t feel like taking a picture right now. Not one that he would feel comfortable sending to Erik.

“That’s true.”

”Hold up a minute.”

What else was he supposed to do?

“Of course.”

“Is that you?”

Erik sent a screenshot of the university’s homepage. Charles didn’t mind that picture too much – maybe a little businesslike, but at least he was wearing his best suit in it, and the color brought out his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Are you catfishing me?”

Charles couldn’t help but notice the – probably entirely unintended – pun.

“Wouldn’t it rather be the other way around?”

Silly jokes had always been his emergency escape from flattery.

“How so?”

“I’m not the one using my cat as bait to lure in unsuspecting genetics professors.”

“So… Bad puns are your only flaw?”

“I wouldn’t call it a flaw exactly.”

“Then you must be entirely flawless.”

“You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“It’s an invitation.”

What even was going on anymore? Charles’ mind was spinning and he felt lightheaded. They were flirting, right? He wasn’t imagining this, was he? It had been so long since he had actively flirted with anyone – even longer since he had actually been interested in a man… was he doing alright? Was he misreading anything?

“Are you doing that on purpose?”

“What?”

“Your hand.”

Charles let his eyes wander to the hand that was not holding his phone. It was only then that he noticed it had wrapped around the locket on Wanda’s collar.  
He let go of it in an instant.

“My apologies, I don’t know why that keeps happening.”

“It’s alright. Like I said… just slightly distracting.”

Charles swallowed hard. It hadn’t occurred to him that perhaps Erik and him were thinking of two entirely different definitions of ‘distracting’.

“What does it feel like?”

“A little bit like someone running their hand across bare skin.”

“That’s fascinating – truly. Does this work with any type of metal?”

“If I’m focused on it enough… I shaped the locket myself and have felt out for it for days so one could say I have a rather firm grip on it.”

“I see.”

Charles caught himself thinking about what else Erik could possibly have a firm grip on and what that might feel like but of course he didn’t utter anything the like. Instead he decided to shoot his shot:

“I don’t know about you but my eyes are getting kind of sore from staring at the screen all day. Would you like to come over and keep talking in person?”  
I’m sure Wanda would like to see you, too.”

All this buildup just for him to extend the lamest invitation of all times? Charles shook his head at himself.

“Sure thing. Let me just feed Lorna and I’ll be on my way.”

Charles’ breath hitched as the realization set in.  
He wasn’t even remotely prepared for this. What was he supposed to do? Why did he always speak – or text – before he thought?  
Did he really though?  
Hadn’t he thought about inviting Erik over way before the text?

To his own horror he realized he was wearing shorts and his old Oxford hoodie. This was not how he wanted to face Erik.  
He could do better than this. For sure.

He jumped up, startling Wanda who had been sleeping next to him by now, and rushed inside.  
The next twenty minutes were a blur of him running around in various states of undress and new-dress, picking up things that were out of place, changing into navy slacks and a light blue dress shirt, hurriedly attempting to bring himself and his place into a state that he felt was appropriate for Erik to see.

All for a man whose face he hadn’t laid his eyes on once. But he forbade himself to think about that just yet. He was a grown man meeting another grown man and there was nothing wrong with being spontaneous like that.

Still, he didn’t even feel remotely ready when the doorbell rang shortly after. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at himself in the mirror one last time before rushing towards the door to let his guest – to let Erik – come in.


	6. Chapter 6

oh dear, ‘not ready’ had been the understatement of the year. After having seen Erik’s torso in the photo, Charles had been convinced that he was an attractive man but lord have mercy.

A jaw and cheekbones that looked like if he wasn’t careful he would cut himself on their sharp edges, steel-blue eyes underneath nicely shaped eyebrows and a mop of light brown hair with just a hint of red to it, a straight nose, and a smile – slightly shark like and just a tad predatory – but in the most attractive way.

Charles noticed in horror that he had audibly gasped at the sight in front of him. Erik chuckled. He was significantly taller than Charles – which wasn’t a rare thing since Charles himself wasn’t the tallest but it added to his intimidating attractiveness.

The professor stood in front of his guest, unable to speak, unable to think, unable to look away.

“Hi.” Erik grinned.  
“Hi.” Charles gasped.  
“Meow” Wanda rushed past the shorter man and towards her owner.

“Na, du verrücktes, kleines Katzenvieh”, Erik purred, kneeling down and extending a hand to massage the top of her head, and Charles couldn’t help but wonder what the words meant.

God, the man was gorgeous. All he had been fantasizing these past days solely from his handwriting and the sound of his voice had been a vast understatement. He still couldn’t grasp that this was actually happening. 

“Please, make yourself at home.” Charles’ voice sounded oddly hoarse, he barely recognized it himself. 

“Wanda seems to have taken that quite literally, doesn’t she?” Erik gave him a warm grin as he stood up and extended a hand to Charles. The latter shook it hesitantly and was positively surprised by the warmth of the other man’s hand on his – lingering just slightly longer than one typically would. 

“It is very nice to meet you in person at last.”   
Erik’s voice was no more than a low murmur, making the rather casual greeting sound like the most intimate of secrets between them, his stern eyes focused on the shorter man in a way that sent a blissful shiver down his spine. Charles couldn’t possibly imagine Erik didn’t know exactly what he was doing to him.

“I – uh – likewise,” Charles breathed as he felt the blood rush to his face. Erik gave him another wide smile that was all (perfectly even and brilliantly white) teeth and Charles thought that – as much as he loved being looked at like that – it would not help him regain his eloquence. Not in the slightest. 

What didn’t help it either was that now with Erik right in front of him it was impossible for Charles to stop his telepathy from having a glimpse at his mind – surface thoughts practically raining down on him – wrapping him in a warm cozy feeling of appreciation and yet – there was something else there. An underlying buzz of something that Charles couldn’t – or wouldn’t – quite identify… warmer even than the appreciation. And at least equally as distracting… 

He pushed the thought away and led the way into the living room. _Silly me_ , he thought, _this is merely wishful thinking. Or worse even – this is you projecting your own emotions at this poor man._

They each took a seat in an armchair across from each other. Just like during their phone call a few days back – after the initial shock of being confronted with … well, Erik… Charles quickly found it easy to have a conversation with him. It seemed their minds were constructed in a way that was severely different from one another but in a very productive way.

Charles didn’t quite know how to put it into words but he saw it in the way they effortlessly transitioned from topic to topic, making each other laugh, asking in-depth questions and receiving equally in-depth answers, simply enjoying each other’s company. It was like there had been an immediate connection between them that only grew stronger and stronger the more explicitly they got to know each other.

It wasn’t until hours later that their conversation died down. It was by no means an uncomfortable silence – quite the opposite was the case with the cat curled up in Erik’s lap and Charles watching them from across the room – but he was afraid that if it stretched on any longer Erik would take it as his cue to go home and he simply couldn’t let that happen so he needed to find something to talk about. Now.

Like many times before, he let his intellect take the lead. “Did you know,” he watched as Wanda rubbed her little head against the palm of Erik’s hand “that a female ginger cat is an incredibly rare thing? In order for that to happen both parents must be ginger of color. Only about 3% of ginger cats are females. Same applies to tortoiseshell males. It’s a very groo-“

His voice died down as Erik stood up – effectively making Wanda jump up with an outraged little mewl and disappear in the kitchen and out through the patio door – and took a step towards him, a slight smirk playing along his slim lips.

“Tell me, Professor, is your extensive knowledge of biology limited to genetics or does it cover… other areas of expertise?” Charles' jaw dropped. He didn’t see that one coming.  
“I –“  
Erik’s laughter sounded even better in person.   
“You look positively terrified,” that must’ve been the visual to go along with the audible smugness on the phone a few days back: “should I turn it down a notch?”   
“Please don’t.”

Charles felt as if he could hear what he was saying but had no way of controlling the words leaving his mouth. Erik took this as an invitation to close the distance between them even more. Charles hadn’t even realized that he, too, had gotten out of his chair until he felt himself backed against the living room wall, Erik’s smirking face just inches away. 

What Charles’ telepathy had picked up on earlier – the warm buzz, distracting yet still manageable for him to ignore – had evolved throughout the past hours. Hot and heavy it hung between the two men, drawing them closer, generating a tension that made Charles’ breath catch in his throat. Everything – the room, Erik’s intense gaze, Charles himself – everything seemed to be tied together by and filled to the brim with this strange and inexplicable energy. Desire.

“I believe I have a theory to prove.” Erik’s voice was merely a whisper. He was close enough for the shorter man to feel the warmth radiating from his body. He cleared his throat – distrustful of the stability of his own voice.  
“Is that so?” Charles did his best to meet Erik’s eyes but they were so intense he felt his heart might burst in his chest if he looked for too long. Erik nodded.

“I am conducting an experiment on the flawlessness of one Charles Xavier.”, he let his tongue slide across his lips and leaned in just the slightest bit closer. “And how are you going to proceed?” Charles whispered, not even making an effort to hide the fact that his eyes were fixated on the other man’s lips. “What would you suggest?” the smirk was back: “you’re the scientist after all.”  
  
And just like that, Charles kissed Erik. He liked to think that this was him making the first move and not him playing exactly into Erik’s scheme – but when it came down to it he found he didn’t actually care.

All that mattered was that Erik kissed him in return. And how he kissed him. The sensation alone was enough to make Charles’ knees buckle. Erik kissed with the same intensity that his eyes previously had lingered on Charles. His lips were impossibly soft, contrasted very nicely by the rough texture of the hint of stubble on his face, and tasted of the wine they had been sharing, and when he let his tongue slip into the kiss, asking to explore Charles’ mouth… Charles couldn’t help but let him proceed. 

It wasn’t long until Charles found himself pushed against the wall, Erik’s firm body against him, one hand shoved into the taller man’s hair. He let out a delighted sigh as Erik let his lips travel away from Charles' mouth and towards his jaw and then onto his neck. 

The professor enjoyed this – no doubt – but he couldn’t help but find himself slightly uneasy. This is going to be a one time thing. _You will enjoy this but then it will be over and you won’t see him again._ The realization hit him with such an intensity that he had to push Erik off of him slightly.

“Do you really think that?” Erik’s eyes found Charles’ as he took a small step backwards to give the shorter man the space he needed. “W-what?” He hadn’t realized he had been projecting his thoughts. What an uncomfortable way to introduce Erik to his telepathy.

“I–I’m sorry it’s just … I haven’t been… this close to anyone in a while and typically I like to get to know someone before – it’s –“ “Would you rather take it slow? We could just keep talking or … I don’t know… cuddle or I could leave if –“ “No!” Charles felt embarrassed at how desperate he sounded. “It’s not that I don’t want it or anything … I have to admit it costs me a great deal of self control not to pull you right back against me … I just want to make sure beforehand that this matters. And that I don’t want our mutual physical desire for each other get in the way of what we could become… I–“ Charles stopped talking as he found his voice was about to crack. He swallowed in an attempt to make the lump in his throat disappear. 

“Charles –“ once again Erik held out his hand, this time in a way that allowed Charles to place his own hand in its palm and have it gently held in a way that helped him calm his thoughts. “I can assure you – despite the fact that you are no doubt one of the most physically attractive people I have ever had the fortune to lay my eyes on let alone to touch – this is not about having one night of fun just to then never speak to each other again. On the contrary. I like talking to you. I like to hear what you have to say. I like to contradict and debate with you.”  
A soft smile played on Erik’s lips and he gave the professor’s hand a slight squeeze: “I am excited to see where we can take this … bond that we have formed throughout the past days given more time. And if that means I have to wait with this indefinitely then so be it.”

Charles didn’t know what to say to this. His heart was beating at such a rate that he was sure Erik could feel it in the hand he was holding. The latter appeared to take Charles’ speechlessness as a kind of uncertainty. “You’re the world’s most powerful telepath. I couldn’t lie to you even if I wanted to.”  
“I believe you,” the professor barely managed to gasp. Erik’s responding smile was enough to send a shiver down his spine. “And –“ he felt the blood rush into his face: “I would like to continue where we left off – if you still want that.”

**——-beginning of the explicit scene——-**

****_Can you hear me like this?_ Erik grinned as he projected the thoughts at Charles. The latter nodded.  
_Good. Because I want to keep in touch with you. I want you to tell me what you want. I want you to tell me what you need._ Charles shivered. He had never had a partner who willingly included his telepathy in sexual acts.  
It had happened that he had slipped and let it get involved in the past – but this was the first time he was actively encouraged to use it.

 _Kiss me._ And Erik did. His mouth was hungry, hot, claiming. His tongue slid across Charles’ lips as he pushed himself up against the shorter man with an intent that hadn’t been there previously, soon abandoning Charles’ mouth to refocus on the soft skin on his neck.

Charles could feel long fingers unbuttoning his shirt, first exposing his collarbones, soon followed by the rest of his torso. _You are beautiful. Absolutely beautiful._ The words echoed in Charles’ mind as Erik let his tongue slide across the soft skin of his upper torso, kissing here, nibbling there, leaving marks that would make Charles blush in the morning. 

_Touch me._ Erik let his hands slide off the wall where they had been placed on either side of Charles’ head to put them firmly onto the latter’s hip bones, raising a slight gasp from him at the contact.  
His hands felt warm and had just the right amount of roughness to them as they traced outlines of bones and muscles, finding all the places that sent shivers down the shorter man’s spine.

Charles was so distracted by the feeling of Erik’s mouth and hands on his torso that he barely took notice of the leg slipping between his thighs until he felt Erik pushing against him, causing a friction that made Charles cry out in delight.  
_Fuck, Erik, please,_ his pants felt impossibly tight at the growing effect of Erik’s physical attention. Erik’s hands slid off his hips and onto his behind, strong arms lifting him off the floor. Charles wrapped his legs around the taller man’s waist – effectively brushing their groins against each other in a way that made them both moan aloud.

 _You’re breathtaking like this_ , even Erik’s mental voice sounded thick with one emotion: lust. As he tightened his grab on Charles’ behind, squeezing it, pushing him closer towards himself, the latter could feel his belt come undone – seemingly all by itself – soon followed by the fly of his slacks – finally releasing him from the tightness of the fabric against his growing erection. It appeared that not only Charles’ mutation could come in handy in certain situations.

 _I love speaking to you in my mind, Charles, all the things I can show you, all the images in my head, would you like that? Do you want to see how I want you? You have no idea what you are doing to me when you look like that._ Charles had an inkling of it – given how impatient and needy he was himself – and Erik’s appreciation for his gift only added onto that.

 _Show me everything, proceed with me however you like, just please, Erik, please touch me._ That was the last coherent thought Charles’ mind could come up with before being flooded with images upon images of scenarios that took his breath away and only increased his need for Erik’s touch – if that was possible.  
To his disappointment Erik’s grip on him softened, Charles soon standing on his own again, if in desperate need of the wall behind him while doing so.

The disappointment only lasted a few seconds, however, as the taller man solely put him down to rid him of his pants entirely, and to step out of his own. Once freed of unnecessary layers of fabric between them, Erik once more pushed himself against Charles, sliding his leg up between the shorter man’s thighs again, teasing desperate little moans from him.

 _Please, Erik, I need you – Fuck, I –_ , the thought broke off aprubtly as out of no where Erik dropped to his knees, circling Charles’ exposed hipbones with his thumbs. The shorter man stood in stunned silence, surprised by the sudden change in position and absolutely taken aback by how absolutely perfect Erik looked kneeling in front of him like that, his hair a right mess, his cheeks flushed with arousal, a slightly mischievous smirk on his lips.

Charles must have accidentally projected the image at Erik as there was a low chuckle from the latter and he placed his lips on the professor's thigh.  
_You like that don’t you? But you’re getting impatient, you can’t wait for me to finally give you what you need so badly, isn’t that right?_

Charles found himself incapable to even think a remotely coherent thought at Erik, just gasping slightly as the other man began – painfully slowly – making his way up the inner side of his thigh, pressing hot, claiming kisses to the sensitive skin. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Erik’s mouth was suddenly on him, teasing at the tip of his erection until finally he took him into his mouth, expertly moving his head in a way that caused Charles to let out a deep, lust-filled groan.

The soft and wet warmth of the other man’s mouth was enough to make Charles’ knees buckle and soon his hands were shoved into Erik's hair, grabbing at it, pulling at it, pushing him closer as he moved his own hips towards him to get just a little more of that glorious feeling. 

At first he tried his best to keep his eyes open for the sight in front of him was something he didn’t want to miss even for a split second but his eyes kept falling shut with pleasure as he threw his head back to moan and he gave it up entirely, trying to fully focus on the feeling instead.  
His telepathy slipped as he let down all of his walls, too distracted by the immense pleasure to keep them up, and as the projected sensation hit Erik’s mind he moaned against Charles, only making him cry out in bliss even more.

 _You look beautiful like this, Erik, and – Ah – you feel so good, I –_ way too soon Charles felt the tension of his approaching climax build up deep inside of him. He wanted for this to last forever, but Erik was just too skilled with his mouth, finding the exact perfect amount of suction, letting his tongue brush against Charles in all the right ways, moving his head up and down his shaft expertly – it wasn’t long until Charles came with a cry, Erik swallowing down every last bit of him save for a thin line that ran down the corner of his mouth as the shorter man slid down the wall to sit on the floor, spent and wrapped in a post-coital haze of delight.

Erik’s hooded gaze and shaky breath told him that – at least partially due to the telepathically shared pleasure – he wasn’t too far from climaxing himself and as soon as Charles felt like he could move again he pulled the taller man towards him, longingly kissing him as he wrapped his hand around his straining erection, soon finishing him off with a few expertly strokes.

  
**——-end of the explicit scene——-**

They spent some time just laying next to each other on the living room floor, stray pieces of clothing around them, the fingers of their joined hands interlaced with each other between them.

Neither of them said a word – not verbally nor mentally – as they took a moment to recover from being absolutely drained in the most positive of ways. The silence between them was broken as – for some inexplicable reason – Charles started to giggle uncontrollably. First softly, then, once joined by Erik, louder and louder until both of them were full on laughing out loud. At each other. With each other.  
  
Charles couldn’t help but laugh at their quick and messy living room affair – needily finishing each other off like two inexperienced teenagers, too desperate for each other to take their time. There was no reason to be upset or ashamed by this for they knew they had all the time in the world to take and try out all kinds of things later on.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the entirety of the past days, everything that led up to this very moment.  
He couldn’t help but laugh at his past self for dreading to contact the wonderful man next to him.  
He couldn’t help but laugh because for the first time in so long he felt nothing but absolute content and happiness.

He didn’t have to say any of this out loud. He didn’t even have to share the emotions telepathically. Because Erik knew. He understood. He felt the same.  
  
Charles reflected on all of this as they lay in his bed a few moments later. Lazily having cleaned themselves off at some point and crawled rather than walked to the bedroom, Charles now felt the other man’s warm and firm body behind him, his strong arms around his waist, holding him close.

Erik had dozed off already and his steady breath and the calm radiating from his sleeping mind had some kind of hypnotic effect on Charles and soon after he felt himself drift off to sleep. 

What neither of them considered at this point was that a few hours later, 8 in the morning to be exact, they would be woken up by a certain little creature in their bed, having entered through the left open patio door. What neither of them considered at this point was that Wanda would be demanding breakfast. What neither of them considered at this point was “meow”.

**——————————————————————— Author’s note:**

Hey everyone! Thank you so much for reading. Though this is by far not the first fic I have written, it is the first I published on here. I would like to thank a special someone for the reason and inspiration for this story: Meet Nacho, aka Hermine (German version of Hermione):

This little baby’s story inspired the writing of this fic as my friends and I agreed that – if I was a single person living by myself and Hermine’s original owner as well– this would be the perfect fanfiction trope.  
Just as described in the fic, Nacho (watch me continue to call her that, I’m so used to it) decided she wanted to move in with us throughout the summer; so she did.

All our efforts to find out where she belonged were fruitless until one day she came home with a collar and a little note in a locket. My mom called the number and the lady told her the story of the three cats that Erik tells Charles about his cats – I simply changed the names to make a reference to Erik’s canonical children.  
So now we sort of have a cat without the responsibilities of actually having a cat; she spends most of her time with us and she’s an absolute sweetheart, brightening my family’s days with her presence. We text her owners from time to time and we’re exchanging pictures of the cats. Love it! 

If you want more Nacho content feel free to contact me on Instagram @jokol.cosplay/@jokol.art (the usernames give a subtle hint at which account is for what ;^] ) or on tumblr @weirdgoblinman. Much love from Germany, Joshua (& Nacho)


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